


Like a Light in a Darkened Room (Waiting for you to turn me on)

by deerly (bsafemydeers)



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-06
Updated: 2010-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-13 13:23:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bsafemydeers/pseuds/deerly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the depths of the dark year at Hogwarts, Seamus Finnigan gets a Christmas kiss he just can't forget. </p><p>Written for Smutty Claus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Light in a Darkened Room (Waiting for you to turn me on)

"Now, hear," says Neville, a little awkwardly because he's still getting used to being in a leadership role, let alone one of the de facto leaders of Dumbledore's Army, "this-- this may be the last Christmas we spend together, as we are. We all know that the Death Eaters are getting stronger every day, and nothing's going to get easier this winter. It's going to get harder. The Carrows aren't done with us, and I don't imagine Snape is either. Merlin only knows where Harry and Ron and Hermione are."

"Fuck," mutters Ernie, sitting to Seamus's right. He leans in, muttering to Seamus, "This is supposed to be our encouragement?"

Seamus opens his mouth in defense of Neville, who's done a damn fine job, he thinks, so far.

He doesn't get to speak, though, because from where she's sitting at Neville's side, Luna Lovegood coughs delicately into her hand and nudges Neville with her knee. It's no secret that Lovegood keeps Neville from folding under the pressure, helps him be the kind of leader Harry was. Neither of them ever point it out, especially to the other Gryffindors of that year, how the kids formerly marked loser with a big red L, were the only ones who stayed loyal enough to check their coins last year.

"Right," Neville says, glancing down at Luna. "But the thing is, we're still here. No matter what happens, we'll always still be here, down to the last wizard. It's our job to protect Hogwarts and its students." He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. "Stay safe during the break. Keep in contact with each other. You-Know-Who's been beaten before, and he'll be beaten again." When a small third-year lets out a whoop, the tension in the air melts away. "Merry Christmas," Neville adds, looking relieved to be done with the speech. "Leave in small groups like always, yeah?"

Everyone mills around in the Room of Requirement for a while before any of them start to leave, and Seamus can't help hearing Neville's words over and over again. This may be the last Christmas we spend together, as we are. Even as they were means there's conspicuous absences. Ginny's making herself as loud as her brothers put together, but the red hair and freckles are a reminder that behind the force of her holiday cheer, Ron's somewhere unknowable and dangerous, and with him Hermione, and Harry. Harry, their only damn hope.

And Dean, too. That's Seamus's personal demon, knowing his best friend is on the run without Seamus to watch his back.

You have to stay at Hogwarts. You can do more there than hiding in someone's attic with me.

"Are you alright, Seamus?"

He jumps at the contact of a small, pale hand on his arm. Lovegood.

"Yeah," Seamus says, offering her the crooked grin that is more often that not his mask these days. He regrets it only a second later when he realizes she can see right through him. "Not exactly. I can't shake the feeling that I might never see some of--" He coughs to hide the way his voice gets twisted with emotion. "This could be it, for some of us."

"It might be," Lovegood agrees, and her hand is warm on his bare skin, just below where he's rolled up his sleeve. "It probably will be." She looks away, and maybe it's the strangeness of it all, but he's disappointed to see those silver searchlight eyes of her focus elsewhere.

When he follows her gaze, she's looking at Neville and Ginny address some fourth-years about walking together. Ginny waves, and then calls, "We're taking them back. What about you, Luna?"

"I can walk you back," Seamus hears himself murmur, and is rewarded with the squeeze of Lovegood's fingers.

"Seamus will walk with me," she calls back to Ginny. "Wait in our common room, and you can take him back." She's smiling, despite the logic problem that has to be solved each night, lest any harm fall upon one who goes alone. "We're catching up," Lovegood adds, even though they've hardly ever spoken.

"We're catching up?" Seamus asks, as the room slowly clears out.

"Isn't that the polite way of saying I want to talk to you?" Lovegood frowns a little. "Perhaps it's different in Ireland."

"It's just that--" He decides to push forward rather than spend time on word games. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"I don't have any particulars, but I'm sure we can find something to discuss."

"You said--"

"I said that I want to talk to you. Not that it has to be about something." But now Lovegood is smiling, enjoying herself even if he's lost. "You're a good sort, and it's almost time to leave for Christmas."

"We'll both be back after Christmas," Seamus says, puffing up a little bit. "Taking care of the wee ones, keeping Hogwarts safe... it's our job." He thinks that he can read some sort of anxiety in her eyes, some sadness. Meaning to be a bit more platonic than the gesture comes out, he reaches out and puts his hand on her shoulder, sliding so that the tips of his fingers are brushing the nape of her neck. Even if he'd missed target, this is just as fascinating, the curve of her neck warm under his palm, her pulse thready against the pad of his thumb.

"You make me feel safer," Lovegood tells him.

"You don't have reason to worry, do you?" It occurs to him that he doesn't know all the particulars of what could be going on in Ravenclaw House. The Carrows know she's become the heart of it, that much is sure. "Lovegood, is everything okay?"

She steps closer, so that they're barely separate bodies, looking smack dab into the middle of his chest. He fancies if she was wearing those Speccy Specs or whatever, she could see right into his heart. "Call me Luna. Please," she says.

"Luna," he repeats lowly, and with her so much closer, his hand is a little tangled in her hair.

"You're very brave, Seamus." Slowly, her eyes track upward. "I bet Dean is so proud to know that you're here, doing all of this."

"I wish he was here with me," Seamus confesses.

"We all have to walk the paths that are given to us. Sometimes alone." Luna smiles up at him, silvery eyes and pale hair gleaming in the last of the firelight. "But you already know that. I like that about you."

"You're so weird," he says, but the grin splitting his face is real now. "You're kind of weird, Luna. I like that about you."

"Also," Luna adds, "you've got lovely large hands with freckles on them."

And yeah, one of those hands is still in her hair. "Happy Christmas, Luna," he says, feeling warm and good, like maybe he really is this big, brave Gryffindor Luna seems to see.

"Happy Christmas, Seamus," she says. She stands on tiptoe, kissing him warmly and briefly on the lips. There's no mistletoe, Seamus knows that, and it seems so simple and clear, especially when she draws back, her lips pink-- and now he knows-- soft.

The hand that's remained at his side so far comes up and skims past her waist until he's got her firmly by the small of the back. He tugs her closer, eliminating that last half of a centimeter between them, until he's got his arms full of her. Which is when he leans down and kisses her back, tasting surprise on her tongue. He'll think about this a million times later, and wonder if anyone's ever properly pulled her in and snogged her rightly like that.

It's a good kiss, one of the best Seamus has ever had, keeping him kissing her harder and harder until neither of them can catch their breath, and she's sucking in shallow breaths as he nuzzles her neck to the side, finding the place he'd felt her heartbeat before, and lightly scraping his teeth over it. "Oh," whispers Luna, and he's got to be embarrassingly hard between her legs now, but she's combing her skinny fingers through his hair in encouragement. Happy Christmas indeed.

Pulling back far enough to see her smile would mean losing her body pressed against him, so he hopes she can feel his stupid grin. "Did I surprise the unflappable Luna Lovegood?" he whispers, feeling less guilty than he should that he's sending her home for Christmas with a hickey.

"Nobody's ever tried to flap me before," Luna says, and though he can feel her shifting and stretching in his arms, responding to him, she slowly pulls away. "Seamus," she whispers, putting her hands on his face, looking amazed. "We can't, right now. I mean, it's not physically impossible, and I want to, but there's several very good reasons for this to just be a Christmas kiss."

Now Seamus is the surprised one, not that he's exactly expecting her to fall down with her legs wide or anything. "What?"

"You'll figure it out," she says, and lets him hold her hand until they reach the end of the hallways, the door to the Room of Requirements fading away. When they get to the Ravenclaw Common room, she hugs Ginny so tightly it makes Ginny yelp.

Thankfully, Ginny is so caught up in her own head that she doesn't notice that either of them looks thoroughly snogged, or how there's a growing mark on Luna's neck. She just wishes Luna sweet dreams and hauls him off with all the delicacy of a Quidditch player. They have to hurry; they're the last ones out.

Seamus lies in bed that night, and all he can think about is a warm room with a roaring fireplace, a giant bed with clean white sheets, and laying out Luna Lovegood against them, her mouth open beneath his and her hair spread out like a halo.

*

 

The flat he shares with Dean really isn't that bad, considering they're two bachelors, wizards in the prime of their lives, helping to rebuild a new Ministry and a new Wizarding World right up there with the rest of them. Of course, Seamus gets a little obsessive about cleaning it on days when it's too hard to forget what it was like, and Dean will hardly keep any furniture for fear of cluttering up the place and making it too claustrophobic. Neither of them really like crowds, and though not even a year apart could dilute their friendship, they both need their space.

As the first year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts looms in the distance, neither one of them can figure out what to do with it. Certain days go by in a haze of remembered fear or exhaustion, and finally one of them admits it's been a personal anniversary: the day Dean tried stripping down and eating a pinecone he was so hungry, or the day Seamus had to hold a second-year so still her legs had lost circulation and she'd cried when the blood came racing back painfully (but better than letting the Carrows find her, take her legs for real).

Seamus only has one memory he really likes to go back to, and it's Christmas of that year, holding the strangest girl he'd ever met in his arms and feeling hungry for something beyond their immediate safety and freedom.

But Luna was one of the DA members that hadn't made it back after Christmas, to Neville's utter decimation. Seamus had been so fucking grateful for the never-ending work to keep him from thinking too much about what had happened to her, what could have been. He knows it's selfish, but he's also really fucking grateful he didn't know where she was, sitting in the dark and trying to keep old Mr. Ollivander sane. When he saw her at the Battle of Hogwarts, she was burning brilliant like a star, and he didn't dare touch her.

It isn't until the first December of rebuilding that he finally confesses to Dean about that night, after the sick bout of jealousy over Dean getting to spend weeks with her and the others at Shell Cottage.

Dean just laughs and shakes his head. "No, man. I figure I feel a lot like Neville does about her. She's a little crazy, but she's brilliant and nice and, I don't know, uh, kind of... precious?" He searches for another word immediately. "It's hard not to want to take care of her, not when you see what she went through, and I guess even if you're practically my family, I'd have to punch you in the face if you made her sad."

Seamus spends another ten minutes making sure that's all platonic concern. "...and it was the best kiss I've ever had," he finally admits. "But I don't know if it's the kind of memory I want to screw up." Because it's a perfect memory, the only perfect memory he has.

So while he expects that Dean might try something, he's still somehow completely blown away when the door opens one day, and he stumbles out in a white t-shirt and boxers, his hair sticking up, ready to defend his use of free time, and there's Luna standing there. She looks better than she did when he last saw her, and he hopes to wizarding god he does too. There's color in her cheeks and if she still looks a little delicate, she doesn't look breakable.

"Hello," she says, as if this is all perfectly natural. "I was looking for Dean."

"Dean?" Seamus asks, as if her sudden arrival has momentarily made him forget who this Dean character could be. "Oh, Dean. Yeah, he had to go in today. Total surprise, but I guess they needed him. Would you like me to--" To what? To what, Seamus? "--to take a message?" Ah, that's not it, lad.

Luna just smiles. "No thank you. We were going to have lunch together because it's the day after we got out."

"Yeah," says Seamus, trying not to look or feel like a colossal loser. "I, uh, wish he was here, then."

Looking around the apartment, Luna nods, and walks inside without invitation, setting down her bag. "I'm fine with him not being here. This is a very pleasant surprise, actually. I suppose I should have thought you could be here."

"I'll make tea," Seamus says desperately, and shuffles to the kitchen.

Luna looks surprisingly comfortable on their crappy little sofa, her legs folded up underneath her as she looks around. There's not much to see, clean white walls ending in dark wooden floorboards; the only art is Dean's stuff, and that's not even framed. The papers are just tacked up haphazardly. Difficult as it was to get Dean to let him put up that much, he suddenly wishes there was more. He suspects her place is far more interesting.

"It's nice here," she says when he hands her a cup. "The sunlight comes in so clearly." Their fingers touch during the passing of the cup, and Seamus feels like maybe he can see the flat from her viewpoint, open and sunny and airy.

"We don't do much with it," Seamus says. "It doesn't feel very permanent. It's just a place to live for now, while we cope, yeah?"

Luna nods. "I think I would live outside, on the roof, if it didn't give my father such fits. I could put up lanterns when it got dark, and use a Charm when it got cold." She smiles, and drinks a little of the tea, prompting him to do the same. "I feel like I haven't spoken with you in a long time."

"I'm busy a lot," Seamus says, feeling stupidly guilty. "I mean, there's training to be an Auror and--"

"--it's hard, to settle into a life you didn't think you'd get to have." She shrugs, biting down on the corner of her mouth. "I turned eighteen this year, and I feel like an old woman sometimes."

"You're definitely not an old woman," Seamus says, and then in his haste not to cuss at his own stupidity, burns his tongue on hot tea. "Ah, fuck, I'm a mess." At least Luna's laughter is gentle, and he finally really looks her in the eye. "I mean to say, you look. You look beautiful, really, and I was surprised to see you today, but I'm really glad you came here, and I'm not even mad at Dean if he set it up, because I've wanted to see you. For a long time."

Luna scoots closer to him, and he's glad for the first time since they bought this damn sofa that it's so small. There's a whole new dimension to her smile now, her eyes warm and hopeful. "Since Christmas, maybe?"

"Well, Christmas before last, but I'm not counting."

Her hand reaches out and rests on top of his, so he takes it. "There were only a couple times I thought I was going to die, and my biggest regret was always going to be that I left something unfinished with you." By now he knows, like most of the world does, that Luna's an unflinchingly honest person, but it still surprises him to hear her say, "I didn't think I would miss it that badly until... it was like some switch got flipped or a bell got rung, when I kissed you."

"Luna," he says dumbly, pulling her forward until she's putting her hands on his shoulders.

"Springtime is a good time to start something, don't you think?"

Seamus has her wholly on his lap now, her arms softening and winding around his neck, and he just has to know. He has to ask. "Why did you turn me down then?"

"I knew something was going to happen to me," she says, very quietly, face down-turned. "There had been threats, and if anyone thought I had feelings, that I could have been in love-- well, that person--"

He dips his head, cupping her face with his free hand, and kisses her before any more words make it out. And he kisses her for a good long while, until all the sadness is gone from her lips and what he tastes is tea and anticipation on her tongue. "You've got a real strange Gryffindor bent to you," he mutters.

"I'm very adventurous," Luna agrees breathily. "I believe that will work out in your favor." She puts her tea down carefully, ever mindful of spilling, and then promptly spills herself into his lap. "After all, it turns out that when you just let the boys come to you, they don't." Not seeming particularly upset with him, though, she pulls her blouse off in a slow, deliberate motion. Shaking out her hair, she says, "Lavender Brown is terrible at giving advice, but she's very good with boys, so I thought it would work out."

"Lavender terrifies me," Seamus says, reeling, watching his fingertips skim up her bare sides until they reach her bra. How this is all working out in his favor, he doesn't know, but his flat isn't cold or cramped to him anymore, because Luna might as well have opened a window, letting sunlight and air inside. "Don't listen to her anymore."

"I thought you might not want to see me," she says, even with the flat palm of his hand slid up under the band of fabric around her chest. She swallows up his protest with one long kiss, sighing happily against his lips, rocking into him. "But I would close my eyes, and I would think back-- oh, that's good," because Seamus is mouthing her nipple through the fabric, "--and I would remember how... you kissed me."

Seamus looks up at her, in the middle of unclasping her bra. "You kissed me first," he reminds her. "It ruined me for other girls. Which there've been thousands of, just banging at the door and wanting a piece of this. Which brings me to the question, when you say you just let the boys come to you, were there many of them?" The snap of the clasp being undone is a hopeful punctuation.

She takes up his face in both of her hands and presses her forehead against his, rolling her shoulders so the straps slide off. "No, you're the only one who makes me feel like this."

Evading her hands slightly, Seamus leans down a little so that he can kiss the hollow of her throat. Her arms drop and her bra slides into her lap, where she pushes it away to the floor by the time he's cupping her breasts in both hands, marveling at the way that if he presses a little more, he can nearly cover her back up. He drifts down, endeavoring to cover most of that space with his mouth instead, bit by bit of pale skin. Luna makes a mewling noise when he sucks one nipple, then the other, into his mouth. It inspires him so much that he turns, pushing her back on the sofa, sliding between her thighs as they fall open.

From there, it's a bit hazy, going back up to kiss her mouth and getting distracted, feeling out the inside of her mouth with his tongue until he completely forgets he's trying to get her naked. She certainly doesn't forget, though, guiding his hands to peel down her skirt, and then her knickers, and when he feels hot, slick cunt he gasps out loud. "Fuck, fuck. Luna...." She laughs, happy and sweet, and he moves into to kiss her more, parting her laughing lips with his tongue as he lets a finger slip between the lips of her cunt, beckoning.

"Oh, oh," she murmurs, arching clear up off the sofa for him, wanting and unafraid. Seamus scoots back until he can place his mouth right at the center of her, bracing his hands on the cushions until she laces their fingers together. He's never done this part before, but he takes a long lick anyway, and her moan is very encouraging. He licks again, bumping his nose against her clit as she rocks into his tongue. Her hips stay in the air, like she's dangling helplessly from his mouth, and it's not long before her fingers are squeezing his in time with the rolling of her hips. She shivers and swears very quietly, the taste of her suddenly exploding on his tongue, and he eases his head up to look at her face. Luna looks so fragile and so wild, the pale blue of her eyes almost swallowed up with the darkness of her pupils, and she's breathing hard.

Seamus is very aware he's just made her come with only his mouth. He's also very aware that his cock is sticking nearly straight up under his shorts, the head clinging to the wide wet spot in the cloth. "Fuck, Luna," he says again, in total wonderment, and she sits up.

"Yes, I would like to," Luna tells him, palming his erection. "On your bed."

He's not really sure how they get there without him suffocating when all his blood runs to his dick and deprives his poor brain of the air it needs to function, but he's suddenly on his back, Luna pushing his underwear down until his cock springs free. She smiles at him, the pad of her thumb stroking the dewy tip of it, and says, "Seamus, please hold my hair. I'd rather it not get in the way right now." He barely has time to sweep unruly blond waves away from her cheeks and neck when she replaces her thumb with her mouth.

Luna didn't lie about being adventurous, because even as she warns him, breathing against the underside of his cock, that she's not done this before, he's trying desperately not to come. She explores all over him, cupping and sucking and licking, eyes darting up to see his response. Hadn't he speculated once to the other boys that this is what being with a Ravenclaw would be like, surprisingly methodical, and yet it doesn't change how much it affects him at all. It's not just being with a Ravenclaw, or a girl, it's being with Luna, and he's known this since he staggered away two Christmases ago.

It's why he finally groans and pleads, "Luna, I'm going to explode if you don't stop."

"Yes," she says, very affirmative about it.

"Please," he grinds out. "I want more, this first time, I want all of you." It seems a little crass to declare he's dying to fuck her, because he's never thought fucking would be like this, have both of them so vulnerable. He thinks, maybe, judging from how this is going, that he'll be able to say absolutely filthy things to her later on, and almost does because she lets him pull his cock from her mouth with a remarkably dirty pop.

Seamus pulls her down beside him, and half rolls atop her, feeling her fingers join his as he lines up to push into her, Luna's thigh creeping up along his own. He muffles his groan against the curve of her neck, but she cries out freely, wiggling until he's all the way in. "Wait," she whispers, and it doesn't even occur to him to finish rolling her over, them both lying like this where he can see her face is more than enough. Her nose crinkles itself and then uncrinkles, and she only has to open her mouth as she nods before he kisses her, not even trying for finesse. There's no finesse to be had, not when he's thrusting shallowly with her cunt pulsing around him like a heartbeat. He can feel her giving way, and it's not just her tongue that's encouraging him deeper, and he can't remember anything about what comes next except that he should probably pull out and he does, warmth jetting up between them.

When did he close his eyes, he wonders, swearing to keep them open the next time, as when he does regain sight, Luna's licking him off her fingers curiously. She holds her finger out, and boneless from exertion, Seamus lets her slip it between his lips, tasting his come on her skin for only a moment before he does roll her to her back. Her hair spills out underneath her like a halo, remarkably golden against the bright white of his sheets.

"D'you know," he says, sweeping his thumb across her cheek, "that I used to dream about you like this?"

Luna turns her face so that she can press a kiss to his thumb. "Oh, yes. I had the very same dreams."


End file.
